There’s very little to be done. When it comes to the two of them, things stop following any logical pattern and become a confusing tangle of needs. Taehyung wraps his arms around Jungkook’s shoulders, lifting himself on his toes as their mouths meet in a soft clash. Jungkook’s eyes darken just a little before closing, and Taehyung shudders when Jungkook’s tongue brushes against his lips—first gently, then insistently, slipping between them to pry them open. Jungkook takes advantage of Taehyung’s surprise to take control of the kiss, his warm tongue sliding into his mouth, twining with Taehyung’s, who trembles in his arms as their bodies press together, as if they both needed the warmth of the other.

Jungkook’s fingers move to thread through Taehyung’s silky hair, a caress that tightens into a grip. He tilts Taehyung’s face just enough to deepen the kiss, devouring his mouth as their tongues glide together. Before Taehyung even realizes it, Jungkook has lifted him off the ground. They’re still kissing as they enter the bedroom, breaking apart only when Taehyung falls softly onto the mattress.

“The doctors said that—” Taehyung starts, his voice barely a whisper.

“We’ll be careful,” Jungkook hisses against his lips.

Neither of them really knows if they’ll be able to keep that promise. They kiss again, Taehyung slipping his hands under Jungkook’s shirt, caressing his stomach, scratching lightly at his chest. He only pulls it off when they part to breathe. Jungkook’s sculpted chest is, as always, a sight to behold. Taehyung bites and tastes the skin as Jungkook strips him of his clothes, careful not to touch the large bandage on his chest. There’s a strange moment where they both stop. Jungkook looks at Taehyung, then slowly leans down toward him. Their eyes lock—Taehyung can’t predict his next move—but then Jungkook places a soft kiss on the bandage, and Taehyung feels like his entire world is about to melt.

Jungkook’s hands begin to slide over his now bare legs. Taehyung parts them as a shiver runs up his thighs directly to his arousal, which is now straining against his boxers. Jungkook watches him the way one would admire a painting in a museum—fascinated, focused. His mouth descends, kissing and biting at his stomach, and Taehyung gasps, throwing his head back. His skin is burning, glistening with sweat.

Jungkook bites lightly at the soft skin beneath his navel. He teases it with his tongue, then stiffens the tip and pushes it into his belly button, making Taehyung jump. His fingers hook into Taehyung’s boxers, quickly pulling them down to join the rest of their clothes on the floor. Now Taehyung is completely naked under his gaze—and yet, something feels different. It’s as if something has shifted between them. For a moment, Taehyung feels like it’s not just about sex.

That it’s about making…

That thought is cut off by Jungkook’s tongue tracing his hard shaft. It moves up the vein running along Taehyung’s cock, and Taehyung moans something incoherent. His hands dive into Jungkook’s hair as he devours him—starting with his cock, sliding it into his mouth. He sucks, one hand massaging his balls, while the other slips a finger into his unaccustomed opening. It’s been weeks since they last did this. When Jungkook adds a second finger, Taehyung jolts from the sharp, pulsing discomfort that grips his entrance.

It’s the pleasure around his cock that distracts him. That tongue working his sensitive flesh leaves room for the fingers to fuck him without ceremony. Jungkook thrusts so deep that his knuckles collide with Taehyung’s already reddened opening from the small abuse. Taehyung’s trembling legs bend, his eyes already glistening from that overwhelming pleasure that only Jungkook in the world can make him feel.

“Beautiful,” Jungkook whispers, and Taehyung has long lost count of the times he’s heard those words. Their mouths meet again in a kiss, but this time there’s no order. Their teeth clash as their tongues tangle with almost animalistic fervor.

Jungkook’s hands tighten around his waist, then slide down to his tanned thighs. His fingers sink into the soft flesh, and Taehyung’s legs yield to their command. Taehyung’s legs are now wide open, his entrance exposed, slightly dilated. Jungkook drinks it in with his eyes, and that’s enough to make his cock as hard as rock, impossibly swollen. Jungkook jerks himself off briefly—just a couple of pumps of his hand—then leans down to kiss Taehyung’s neck and lines himself up.

“I need to fuck you. I can’t hold back any longer. Your scent is driving me crazy…”

And there’s something surrendering in Jungkook’s voice. It’s as if he’s admitted defeat, and Taehyung can’t understand why. What game are they playing? And why doesn’t he know the rules? The answer to those questions doesn’t matter. Taehyung wraps his arms around Jungkook’s back as he arches his hips, thrusting into him in a single, deep movement that rips a low groan from Taehyung.

“I know, baby. I know… now go,” he whispers against his ear, his tongue flicking against the cartilage as Taehyung almost writhes against the large cock filling him. He gasps as he clings to him, his nails scratching at his skin. That pain must drive Jungkook beyond reason, because the alpha becomes impatient. He grips Taehyung’s hips and begins to fuck him with such raw, brutal movements that Taehyung feels overwhelmed by a pain that surpasses even the pleasure, at least for the first long, difficult moments. Then his body starts to stretch, the tight, burning hole seeming to mold around the cock slamming into him, harder and harder, more and more hungrily. Meanwhile, Taehyung’s cock is trapped between their bellies, rubbing against Jungkook’s defined abdomen. Jungkook’s arms are taut, his palms pressing on either side of Taehyung’s head, his tattoos black ink on golden skin. Taehyung turns his face to kiss that skin, finding it salty, filled with the scent of the alpha that he wants to bear his mark.

And that thought is like a slap.

To be marked by Jungkook…

It’s something Taehyung tries not to think about, a thought he prefers to isolate, a thought he must isolate. A dangerous thought.

Yet…

Yet for the first time, he wonders how Jungkook would react if he asked. If he told him to really bite him, to claim him as his omega.

The thought is so exciting that Taehyung contracts around the cock still thrusting inside him. A spasm, then another. By the third spasm, Taehyung is coming between their bodies. Jungkook holds him down, pressing a hand on his shoulder as his hip movements grow even more brutal, more intense. Taehyung feels his entrance burn and stretch so much that he feels like he’s losing his mind—but it’s the excitement of that huge cock filling him that makes him feel this way.

Then, finally, he feels it.

He feels Jungkook’s hot cum filling him, feels his cock slow its pace. Jungkook gasps against his ear, then places an open-mouthed kiss on his cheek. Their breathing is the only sound filling the room.

Jungkook lies next to him, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling as if he’s run a marathon, and in a way, he has. Taehyung has never been fucked like this by anyone before. Not even by Jungkook. He turns onto his side and presses his cheek against the alpha’s chest. He listens to the beat of his heart, then places a soft kiss on his skin. Jungkook’s hand slides into his hair, caressing him gently. But then the fingers stop.

Jungkook sits up on the bed, and Taehyung is forced to move.

He lifts his gaze to his face and sees Jungkook looking strangely serious. Something’s different, something’s off. He wonders if he did something wrong, but nothing comes to mind. Then Jungkook starts to speak.

“You’re safer here than at your place. That’s really the only reason you’re here. You know that, right?”

Taehyung furrows his brow, confused.

“What…? Why are you…”

“We’re not together. This isn’t a relationship, and this isn’t living together. I think it’s important to make things clear. We can fuck, if we want to. We can not do it, if we don’t want to. But you have your life, and I have mine. We’re not a couple. I don’t believe in bonds, especially not with omegas.”

Taehyung falls silent. The words freeze somewhere deep within him, far from his voice, far from anything.

“I don’t want you to get any illusions.”

Taehyung blinks, trying to make sense of the situation. He has to say something, or he’ll look like an idiot. He has to say something, anything, or it’ll seem like he’s hurt, like he’s the one who made those illusions.

And deep down, he really has.

Just before, he had fantasized about asking Jungkook to bite him.

How stupid he’s been.

“I don’t—”

“You don’t need to say anything. I just wanted it to be clear to both of us. We don’t have a relationship. We’ll never have a relationship. There’s nothing between us.”

Jungkook reaches for the nightstand. The drawer slides open, and Taehyung focuses on the sound because the little things are the only thing keeping him afloat, preventing him from sinking.

Jungkook grabs a pack of cigarettes. He pulls one out, brings it to his lips, then gets off the bed.

“I’m going outside to smoke,” he says, not even bothering to look at him.

And then, he leaves.